


scars

by seimaisin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Gen, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: A sorely needed conversation between siblings. Post Episode 72.





	

Percy tells them he’s going to his workshop to make bullets. He even intends to do so, but he gets halfway down the stairs before he turns around and heads to Cassandra’s room. 

She doesn’t answer his knock right away. He’s on the verge of giving up and going away when he hears the quiet answer. “Come in.”

“Cass?” 

When she sees Percy, she nods to the bodyguard sitting by the door. “You’re excused. Thank you.”

The man nods at both Cass and Percy before leaving the room. When the door closes again, Percy takes a deep breath. “Cass, I wanted to tell -”

That’s as far as he gets before she crosses the room and smacks him across the face. He can only raise a hand to his stinging cheek. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“You suppose?” It would be better if she raised her voice, if her anger was loud and hot. But she sounds so young, so shaky, that he feels something in his heart knot up. “You are … you are …” Suddenly, whatever fight she’d had leaves her; her shoulders slump, and she turns away. “You’re like Father,” she murmurs, rubbing her face.

The accusation stings more than the physical blow. “I didn’t mean -”

“You never do, Percival. You never mean to hurt. You just know better than anyone else, always, in every situation.”

“She threatened everyone. You, everyone in the castle, everyone in bloody Whitestone.” Percy drops down into a chair, his energy gone. “She told us if we said anything, told anyone, she’d use everything she’s learned while impersonating Asum and destroy everything. We couldn’t do anything but take her seriously. An ancient green dragon, especially one who could set off something like this Chroma Conclave, is smarter than anyone else in this city.”

“Anyone except you, of course.”

“I don’t consider myself exempt, no.”

“Of course you do.” Cassandra still isn’t looking at him. She crosses to the window, her arms wrapped around herself. “If you didn’t think you were smarter than she, you would have never pulled your sword today.”

“I …” Percy sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “I saw an opportunity. I’m not foolish enough to think she’ll give me a second opening.”

“But you’re not frightened of her.”

“Of course I’m bloody terrified!” Percy stares at his sister’s back - her shoulders are set, and he can see the faint reflection of her eyes, watching him in the glass. “She’s sitting in the middle of my home, and one mistake will get all of us killed. I watched her help destroy another of my homes. I know what she’s capable of. I am not stupid enough to not be afraid.”

“Because gods know, being stupid is the worst fate you can think of.” 

“Now you’re twisting my words.”

“Am I, though?” Cassandra turns. “Do you remember how Father used to put us through those little humiliations? Like letting us think our clothing was just fine, and then watching with a smirk when guests laughed at us? ‘A learning experience,’ he called it. A way to develop callouses, so we would learn not only how to behave in public, but how to behave as if we had no weaknesses. I remember,” she continues, closing her eyes, “hearing Mother try to argue with him once. I think it was after your experience at the Hunt, come to think of it. He acted like she was too emotional, too soft-hearted. He was cleverer than her, you see, and knew better what we needed.” 

Percy’s chest feels hollow. “I remember. That was the year I missed the whole banquet, because he let me ride around in circles in the forest for hours.”

“Remember how you felt, walking into the castle that night? That’s how I felt today, only with a wonderful extra layer of sheer terror. But you were so bloody proud of yourself for outsmarting a fucking dragon in our midst, and that mattered infinitely more to you than anything I was feeling.”

He can only blink, and try to breathe around the panic that threatens to seize his lungs. “I’m sorry, Cass. I really am.”

She sighs. “I know you are. But it won’t stop you from doing it again.”

“What would you have had me do? Would you rather still be in the dark?”

“Quite honestly, yes.” Cassandra walks to her bed and sits on the edge. “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, Percy. At this particular moment, I rather wish the Briarwoods were still here.” Percy goes cold, as she continues, “At least I knew what they were capable of. At least I wasn’t responsible for every bloody person in the whole of Whitestone. And at least I knew without a doubt that I was alone. It hurts, to have hope, and to be disappointed.”

Before he can form words - his mind is blank - she give a small, humorless laugh and buries her face in her hands. “That’s not true. Or it is, in a terrible selfish way, but I know better.” When she looks back up at him, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “It was comforting, sometimes, to let myself believe that they cared for me. They were invested in me, for whatever reason. They valued me. I suppose I must have had an ultimate use, something they never got around to, or they would have killed me outright like everyone else. But at least they were here. And they pretended.”

Her verbal arrow hits the mark, and Percy almost raises his hand to his chest to check for a wound that isn’t there. “Cass, I …I wish I could go back. I wish I could make that night happen again, so I could stop, and stay with you. Or carry you. Something other than what I did.”

“No, you don’t. And neither do I.” She takes a shaky breath. “Had you done anything but run, we would have both been caught. And then Ripley would have been able to finish whatever it was she started with you, she would have killed you, and we wouldn’t be sitting here today, both free of the Briarwoods. I know that. I can’t pretend I’ve fully accepted it, but I know it.”

Percy inhales sharply at the mention of Ripley. “She did, you know.”

“What?”

“Kill me. It took her five years and a gun, but she did it.”

Cassandra blinks, wiping away the tears that escape with the motion. “Are you talking about - in the temple? Just … before?”

He nods. “I meant to tell you, but as soon as I recovered, there was Raishan, and …” He spreads his hands, then brings them back and tangles his fingers together, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “She was in Marquet. She had two of the Vestiges. She …” He closes his eyes at the memory. “She had an enchantment on the gun, the one I took from her. She could listen to everything we said. She knew everything we’d done since she escaped. She was always here.”

She just stares at him; he can see her hands shaking, much like his are. He wonders what her experiences with Ripley were, after he escaped. She hasn’t talked much. They haven’t talked much, quite frankly. “We chased her to this island - it was made of glass, it was fascinating and terrible and I couldn’t appreciate any of it because she was there. And she got the drop on us. She had - she’d gotten -” He takes a deep breath. “The demon. It found a more suitable host, after it left me.”

“Percy,” Cassandra whispers. He waits, but she says no more.

“I was her objective. Their objective. They didn’t stop until I was down. I got back up twice, but then … I didn’t. Not until I was back here, in the temple.” He stops there. There are things he still can’t speak of - his ragged edges, the hours of agony that stretched into infinity. But somehow, he thinks she might understand, if he did. Perhaps someday. 

“I knew - I knew you’d died, and that they brought you back, but I didn’t -” Cassandra puts a hand over her mouth, then lowers it and catches his gaze. “Is she …”

“Dead. I didn’t witness it, obviously, but I’m told it was undeniable. And gruesome. She won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I think she’ll always be here, hurting us. I don’t think we’ll be able to be rid of her. But at least she won’t harm anyone else the way she harmed us.” Her gaze drops to the floor. “She killed you, but they brought you back. I have a lot to be grateful to your family for.”

“As do I.” 

“And maybe someday, I’ll be able to apologize to them for hating them, just a little bit.” She still does not meet Percy’s eyes. “I envy you the love you have, Percival.”

At this, Percy rises from his chair, crosses the floor, and kneels in front of her. He takes her hands in his. They’re both still trembling, but the contact feels grounding. “I love you,” he says, chasing her gaze until she meets his eyes. “And I’m sorry for … being me, I guess. I have a lot of things to make up for, in this second chance I’ve been given. I’ll be honest,” he continues, squeezing her hands, “I don’t actually know how much time I’m going to have to atone. I don’t know how any of this is going to go. But know this, no matter what - you are always in my heart, and I’m sorry for ever making you feel otherwise.” 

With a shaky sigh that sounds almost like a sob, Cassandra leans forward until her forehead is resting against Percy’s. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If you do survive the dragons, you’ll come home. I don’t expect you to never leave,” she says, twisting her lips into a semblance of a grin, “but give me some of your time. Some of your life. Please.”

Percy takes a deep breath. “I promise.” 

She sits up, but keeps his hands in hers. Her smile slowly becomes more genuine. “And you can even bring your lady.”

With a groan, Percy drops his head until it’s resting on top of their hands, in her lap. “Oh gods. I do not want to talk about that.”

“Is that an admission that she is your lady, hmmm? I mean, you gave her the title - which, by the way, we haven’t actually discussed yet - but …”

“Cass. Cass,” he says, pleading, lifting his head again. “Please, if you have any regard for me …”

“Maybe I should just ask her about it.”

“Oh, sweet gods of Pelor.” Percy drops his head again, and Cassandra giggles. It’s a lovely sound, finally free of tears or anger. If he has to endure her teasing to hear it … well, there are in fact worse fates.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [scars [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498308) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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